


Dine and Dash

by AstronomicalDragon



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: I had so much fun writing this I hope u guys have as much fun reading it, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstronomicalDragon/pseuds/AstronomicalDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Gokudera had long ago accepted that he'd never be as good (or bad, however you look at it) at cooking as his sister, but even he knew the perfect ingredients that made a dine and dasher. Yes, you had to be just the right amounts young, stupid, broke and desperate. Tonight he was all of those things."<br/>Gokudera meets Yamamoto under slightly different circumstances.<br/>8059 oneshot</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dine and Dash

**Author's Note:**

> I've no idea how but I managed to write this up in one night with the help of a very sudden burst of inspiration and copious amounts of coffee. This was really fun to write so I hope it's a fun read too!

Gokudera had long ago accepted that he’d never be as good (or bad, however you look at it) at cooking as his sister, but even he knew the perfect ingredients that made a dine and dasher. Yes, you had to be just the right amounts young, stupid, broke and desperate. Tonight he was all of those things.

So with that idea in mind he set out to spend his first night in Namimori crudely and unlawfully, which if he was asked, was the perfect way to spend any stretch of time.

He stalked high and low on his quest to find the perfect place for his heist. Naturally, it had to be a quiet, small café or restaurant that couldn’t spare workers to chase him and had no CCTV. _Which basically meant no to high-end restaurants and no to anything decent_ , he grumbled to himself.

As he walked through the silent streets he contemplated his day tomorrow, and his meeting with the so-called 10th generation Vongola-leader-to-be – some Sawada punk who probably couldn’t tie his own shoe laces yet. Gokudera was confused as to how the title could go to anyone who lived in a city that seemed as peaceful as this their whole life.

He was still treading the streets when he had to double take and glance back at a secluded looking but welcoming sushi bar on a calm street. There were only a few passers-by and no cameras in sight. The place was perfect.

Gokudera veered towards it and the moment he opened the door an underlying scent of raw fish and spices overwhelmed him. A boy looking about his age smiled brightly from behind the counter and waved him over towards the seats, gesturing that he’d be with him in a few moments. The wide smile sorta ticked Hayato off. He sat himself down anyway.

The place had a nice atmosphere, it was modest but a small crowd of customers was comfortably sat around anyway, some obvious regulars by the way they chattered with a tall man who stood chopping away behind the counter. Laugher burst out now and then.

Gokudera considered what he could get at a sushi bar, after all he’d only ever tried this type of food a couple times at family parties – only to realise he had no clue. He had better wait for a menu, then.

His menu arrived before he even finished the thought in the hands of the same teenager that had waved at him when he first entered, and that overly cheery smile was still fixed firmly in place. Gokudera could bet a handful of yen that he didn’t have that it wasn’t real. There was no intent or malice hidden behind it, but the smile didn’t reach those brown eyes and it made Gokudera slightly uncomfortable.

The menu was laid in front of him and the boy smiled and looked like he was about to turn around before pausing. Gokudera watched him bite his lip and a smudge of paranoia bit at him – _the boy couldn’t have already caught on that he was gonna leg it, right?_ – but he ushered it away and regarded the boy as calmly as he could.

“I’m Yamamoto and I’m your uh, kinda waiter for the night. Do you need any help choosing?” The boys tone and words were bright and welcoming and it ticked Gokudera off. He couldn’t have people who he was going to steal from be that nice to him, now could he?

So he put on his best Mafioso sneer and replied.

“What, you think I’d need help just cause I’m a foreigner?” His voice grit and the tone made even himself cringe inwardly.

The boy just smiled and shrugged.

“I find it never hurts to ask,” he said with a laugh that broke something inside Gokudera and he made to turn around to leave the teen to his menu. Somehow Gokudera’s hand gained a mind of its own and before he could stop the movement it had clasped itself to the back of the boy’s – Yamamoto’s – arm and the guarded expression on his face dropped to reveal shock. Gokudera’s head hung down as he snapped his hand back and cursed his impulsiveness. Why didn’t he want the boy whose smile looked far too sad for a kid to leave? It didn’t matter anyway, because hopefully after this day he’d never be seeing him again.

It took him a second to realise that the boy was stood waiting for some sort of… explanation, he supposed, so he began talking only to realise that he was _mumbling far too much for the boy to understand and_.

The seat across from him was suddenly taken and Yamamoto spoke again.

“You genuinely have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” He asked. Gokudera would have questioned the wording if he wasn’t too busy fuming at the renewed, and this time all-too-genuine smile on the other’s face. He actually had to fight himself to supress a growl.

“No…” he finally admitted after he realised the teen was waiting for an answer.

The smile he got at that was actually blinding. Gokudera began wishing he’d bought his sunglasses along to Japan with him but then again, evidently not everything was going to go his way.

Before he had time to reconcile any further, the teen launched into a rant explaining all the types of sushi (and other foodstuffs) they served, as well condiments, drinks and just about everything under the sun as Gokudera struggled to digest it all. By the time Yamamoto had wrapped up with a couple recommendations Gokudera was 100% sure he could write a damned essay on the topic.

In the end he had settled for Toro and Hamachi sushi (Yamamoto’s apparent favourites) and a side of green beans. Yamamoto had grinned like a madman and ran off with the menu, leaving Gokudera to his _albeit rather sushi ridden_ thoughts again.

And so began his slow descent into the depths of guilt. This guy had just spent some half hour sat with him just to make sure he felt welcomed when he was probably already neck deep in other stuff to do for the bar. And in a very short span of time Gokudera was going to cheat him out of his well-earned money. With a sigh he realised that he definitely wouldn’t be able to look the teen in the face again. Bother him for thinking this was a good idea in the first place and bother him for choosing this restaurant out of all the others he theoretically could have gone to.

The room seemed to get a whole lot more suffocating and he shrugged his jacket off with a deliberate sigh.

A tray was placed in front of him and he looked up with surprise because instead of the boy before him stood the man who had previously been chopping bits and pieces behind the counter. He smiled warmly and nodded at Gokudera.

“Sorry to say but Takeshi can’t have another chat with you tonight. The place is getting busier and I need him out back. Come around any other time though.” His voice was rusty and warm, and wisdom sparked from his mouth as if it was stuck in between his teeth. Gokudera felt the same vibe from him that he had from the retired Mafioso who his father had often interacted with. _Old friends_ , he’d say, _The kind you only make in battle_. Not like Gokudera actually listened.

The man left and Gokudera got down to his meal, rushing awfully, in a hurry to get it over with and leave.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the boy look up from delivering someone’s order with a warm wink and a wave at him. He couldn’t muster himself to even look up. He never saw the other teen’s expression drop either, but the guilt was still there and in the end it was what caused him to get up as fast and inconspicuously as possible and leave. The door shut behind him with no incident and after taking a couple languid paces he bolted, not even caring if there was anyone on his tail or not.

He slowed down after jogging several blocks and corners, and decided to hit the hay for the night. Heading off towards his newly rented dingy apartment, he reflected on the smiling face of the boy who he’d never see again. A sigh escaped him before he could stop it.

He desperately needed a cigarette that he didn’t have the money for.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning had been a blur and before he knew it he’d ended up on the roof of Namimori middle school with a burning headache and a new hatred towards a scruffy, useless, gutless boy called Sawada Tsunayoshi. The mere thought of that guy as the head of the family gave him waking nightmares.

As he lay staring at the cloudless sky and smoking what he considered a god-sent gift (he was _so_ glad he’d stashed some somewhere in his luggage) he thought of all the ways of beating the Sawada kid into surrender before the fool went ahead and made himself Vongola 10 th.

Before he could continue on that dark train of thought a shadow fell upon him and them there was fabric covering his face and while he dragged it off he realised it smelt familiar, way too familiar because it smelt like his own and _oh fuck_. It _was_.

It was the jacket he had worn the day before while mingling with crime and people’s incomes. The jacket he had so kindly left back at the sushi bar where he dine and dashed at, because apparently he was far too busy trying to leg it without being noticed to take it with.

He looked up reluctantly at the figure behind which the sun shined far too bright for him to make out any solid features. He knew who it was anyway.

A hand found its way onto his forehead and he groaned at his own naivety. Of course the kid went to the same school he’d just transferred to. This was fantastic. Absolutely fucking peachy.

“Damn,” He said. To himself or the sushi guy he didn’t know.

He seriously didn’t know what to do next, but his companion seemed to have decided for him because before Gokudera could made heads or tails of the situation he was sitting down right next to him propped up on his elbows – the picture of casual indifference and calmness. Basically, everything Gokudera hadn’t expected the guy whose income he probably cut short to be at that very moment. Hell, if _he_ was in this guy’s shoes he’d be throwing a punch or two right now.

“I saw you come up here so I thought I’d follow.” The other finally spoke. Gokudera groaned. At least he hadn’t left it up to him to kickstart what he suspected was going to be a very long conversation involving either debt or a visit to the police station. That didn’t mean he knew how to continue it either.

That problem was also very shortlived.

“I figured since you were a new face you might have been the transfer student people had been talking about a while, so I bought that,” sushi guy made a loose gesture to the jacket now sitting snugly beside Gokudera “along with me. I’m glad I was right.” And there was that laugh again, and Gokudera was equal parts astonished as he was pissed.

“Aren’t you angry?” He asked. There was another laugh.

“Angry? Not really. Though I am a bit hurt. Dad could use some more prompting though.” Gokudera thought back to how the man back at the bar used the boy’s first name rather than last and mentally slapped himself for not spotting the relation sooner. “I recommend you apologise fast and offer to help with work or something like that – he’s actually pretty kind about this stuff and it’s happened before.” Gokudera felt the other’s gaze on him and struggled not to squirm. _Guilt does terrible things to a person_ , he thought.

“If I was you I’d hand me straight to the police.” He had no idea where that slip of the tongue came from and he vaguely regretted it as he realised that the other could very easily reconsider his previous offer. Well, if worst came to worst he could just blow the station up. Violence was a damn good way to solve any problem as far as he was concerned. Granted, back home might not be too happy about it, but he’d never cared before and he wasn’t about to.

A loud laugh bought him from his thoughts and he had a brief moment to ponder _just how much does this guy laugh_ and _doesn’t his throat get sore_ before the other spoke again, seemingly full of glee.

“There’s no need for that though is there… As long as you pay back of course. And my dad _was_ joking about how skinny you looked and how you could use some extra meat on your bones…” Gokudera snarled at that and the other boy just held up his hands in defence and muttered something along the lines of ‘ _his words not mine_ ’ before continuing.

“Anyway,” He spoke, and suddenly his demeanour changed completely, brown eyes turning serious as the lazy smile crept off his face. That certainly made Gokudera turn to him and look him in the eye. Gokudera realised he could see the similarities between the younger and his father – they carried the same air of knowledge and steadiness, though the elder was layered with wisdom and maturity on top of that. Gokudera’s mouth grew dry at having that intense expression directed at him. “I knew you were gonna run from the moment you came in. You looked far too jittery and uncomfortable for your own good. I suggest you don’t try this stuff again lest you end up at the whims of people far less kind than us.”

And just like that the aura dissipated and the teen was back to normal, giving a small laugh at Gokudera’s dazed expression.

“I don’t think I caught your name yesterday, right?” He asked with a sheepish smile as his hand rubbed the back of his head.

Gokudera considered pointing out that he’d never given a name in the first place but thought better of it and gave in.

“It’s Ha- Gokudera Hayato.” He gulped at the stumble but the other just laughed in that nonchalant way. “You’re Yamamoto right?” Then, he grinned and put out the cigarette he’d all but forgotten about on the tile next to him and said, “But I don’t suppose you’d mind if I call you sushi freak. No sane human being should know that much about different types of raw fish and all the shit you can eat it with.” He chose to avoid mentioning the fact that the knowledge was now forever engraved inside his brain too.

Yamamoto just laughed.

“Now listen here,” He said with the brightest smile Gokudera had ever witnessed, “Its _baseball_ that I’m all about, sushi is more my old man’s thing.”

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, I'm still looking for a beta reader within the KHR fandom! If you're interested please message me on tumblr. We can squeal over our favourite characters as a bonus.  
> Anyway I hope you enjoyed! :D


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